Gemotions

I sat at the grand piano, the ivory keys gleaming under the soft light of the practice room. The music poured from me, a cascade of notes that erased all worries. The vibration from each note thrummed through my fingers and up my arms.

A stern voice interrupted my practice. It belonged to the department head. "We need to talk," he said gravely.

The scholarship. An error. I felt my stomach churn. The music, a source of such joy, now felt like a painful reminder of what I could lose. The keys, once familiar, were cold and uninviting.